


Sherlock Holmes, Closet Monitor

by okapi



Series: Holiday Tentacle!lock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood Memories, Fluff, Kid Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Reminiscing, School, Sherlock Has Tentacles, Supernatural Elements, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 18:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: Sherlock recounts a childhood memory.Tentacle!lock fluff. For the DW What if AU Challenge 18: Back to School.





	Sherlock Holmes, Closet Monitor

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Small Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit) for the beta. For the DW What if AU Challenge 18: Back to School.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said John. “Or maybe a bright shiny apple.” He produced a fine specimen from the basket and tossed it in the air just behind Sherlock’s head.

The apple fell, but a thin, grey, ribbon-like appendage slipped out of a slit in Sherlock’s dressing gown and caught it just before it hit the floor.

John grinned and tossed another apple in the air, and he kept at the assault until all eight of Sherlock’s tentacles were employed in juggling scarlet fruit.

“You are incorrigible. They are show offs,” said Sherlock dryly.

“Oh, I wonder where we get it from,” teased John. “I think I’ve got enough for Mrs. Hudson’s cider press, with one left over for the teacher.” With a dramatic flourish, he produced the brightest and shiniest of the lot and held it aloft beside Sherlock’s head.

Sherlock took the apple from John’s hand and bit it. He hummed and chewed, and the tentacles made a sport of tossing the apples they’d been juggling back to John, who returned them to the basket.

“I don’t think you even noticed my return, Mister Observant. What held you so spellbound on such a crisp autumn day?”

“I was thinking about my childhood,” said Sherlock.

John’s eyebrows rose, and he sat abruptly on the edge of the nearest surface, which turned out to be the coffee table. He leaned forward, hands on thighs, and looked at Sherlock with undisguised curiosity.

“Oh, yes? Anything you want to share with the class?”

“I think it’s the kind of story that ought to be told on a crisp autumn evening,” said Sherlock, “before a fire, with a glass of calvados in one’s hand.”

Still smiling, John nodded. Then he slapped his thighs and stood, saying firmly,

“I’m going to hold you to it, Sherlock.”

“I have no doubt, John.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

* * *

“I was seven years old. A new school. The students in the class were assigned jobs by the week. There was a certain prestige in being ‘teacher’s helper,’ but I preferred ‘messenger’ because it gave me the freedom to explore as I was couriering notes back and forth from the school office. Also, the notes themselves and the reactions and responses of senders and recipients were, sometimes, not without their features of interest for a fledgling investigator and student of human nature.”

“That I can easily imagine,” said John.

“But the third week of autumn term,” continued Sherlock, with a roll of his eyes and a huff of disgust. “I was assigned ‘closet monitor.’”

John giggled. “Oh, Sherlock. What were you monitoring the closet for, pray tell?”

“Fallen coats and jackets. Misplaced backpacks and lunchboxes. It was a deep closet, and there were hooks on either side. Past the hooks were classroom equipment and boxes of supplies. The shelves were well organised at first, but the further one travelled the more it looked like any attic or lumber room.”

“Full of jumbled junk,” said John. “A graveyard of the once-useful, now-forgotten.”

“Precisely. Also, it’s probably no surprise that my condition was a secret then and for many years after. Only Mycroft and my parents knew about them, and they were as young as I was.”

John grunted as two of the ‘they’ in question emerged and ruffled Sherlock’s dark curls affectionately.

“But, back to school. Of course, being closet monitor was a very dull business. The only bright spot was when I was asked to fetch some supply or other. On the third day, I was in search of glue, when I saw something that sparked my curiosity. In the farthest recesses of the closet, something stood. It was tall and rectangular and covered in a heavy cloth. Of course, I had to investigate, but there wasn’t time to do anything without arousing suspicion. The following day, I concocted a ruse and returned to an empty classroom during the lunch hour. I had prepared and brought a torch. I closed the door behind me and stepped further and further into the closet.”

John was leaning forward so far forward he threatened to tip out of his seat.

“And what was it?!” he asked.

Sherlock was leaning forward, too, and suddenly, a long tentacle appeared and, stretching, closed the distance between armchairs. The moment before hot liquid dripped onto the rug, the tentacle successfully removed the red mug from John’s grip and set it down on the floor by John’s feet.

Stain and spill averted, Sherlock continued.

“A mirror.”

John’s brow furrowed. “A mirror?” Then he cocked his head. “I suppose that’s not that unusual.”

“There’s more, John.”

“I hope so.”

“I looked in the mirror, but I didn’t see my reflection. I saw a boy looking back at me.”

John’s mouth dropped open.

“What?!”

“He was a boy of my age standing on a patch of sand. There was water in the distance. He wore a pirate’s hat and a pirate’s patch over one eye. He smiled at me. I waved a hand, and when I did, directly behind the boy, eight small versions of this,” Sherlock held up his own hand and a thick tentacle coiled ‘round his palm, “waved back.”

“Sherlock!”

“I’d never seen someone like me before, certainly no one my own age. For a long time, I just stared. Then he said, ‘What’s your name?’ I said, ‘Sherlock.’ He said, ‘Mine’s Victor. Do you want to play pirates?’ I nodded. ‘How?’ I asked. ‘Give me your hand.’ I reached out my hand towards the mirror. ‘No, silly. One of your special hands.’ I had to pull up my shirt and lean into the glass, but I managed, and he pulled me, simply pulled me, into his world. It was just the two of us and a dog. We played pirates for hours, there, along the shore. He was Red Beard. I was Yellow Beard. We sailed little boats in the water, and sometimes, one of us was the giant sea monster. He was the first ever to cut slits in the back of my shirt. The sun was setting, and I told him I had to leave. He took me to an entrance to a cave and we said, ‘good-bye.’ I promised to return the next day.”

John was still frowning.

“And?!”

“And when I found myself back in the closet, the lunch hour was over.”

“And?!” insisted John.

“And the next day, the mirror was just a mirror.” Sherlock shrugged, but his tentacles were fully extended and wriggling wildly, ruffling his hair, tapping his nose, pulling at his eyebrows, and poking his ears with their rubbery tips. Sherlock swatted at them like buzzing mosquitos.

“Sherlock,” said John, shaking his head. “That’s…”

“…a spooky story?” suggested Sherlock with a knowing grin, then he scowled and added irritably, “Stop it, stop it, that’s enough, go to sleep!”

“Oh,” exhaled John. Then he leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Christ, you had me, you know? Yes, it was a good story. Hallowe’en’s right around the corner, you know?”

“I know,” said Sherlock. Then he lifted his glass, “Cheers.”

John tapped his glass against Sherlock’s. “Cheers. To Sherlock Holmes, Closet Monitor!”

* * *

Much later, as John’s snores rang down from the floor above, Sherlock turned down his bed and stepped out of his slippers. He drew off his dressing gown and padded silently to the wardrobe. He hung his dressing gown on a hook on the inside of the wardrobe door.

Then with one swipe of his hand, Sherlock pushed all the hanging clothes tight to one side and tugged the cloth that covered the back of the wardrobe.

“Hey, Sherlock, do you want to play pirates?”

Sherlock nodded. Then he stepped into the wardrobe and one thin, grey, ribbon-like appendage reached out to draw the door shut behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Okapi Minor (age 7) who was closet monitor last week.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
